Handcuffed Together
by stormfirej fowl
Summary: After Spain undertakes wild drunken night-time adventure, Romano wakes up unwillingly handcuffed together by an annoying British "fairy". Now, they must journey (still locked up) to find the goddamn fairy, and remove it. But can he really remove it? Will he remove it?
1. Chapter 1

_Hallo! I'm back! This is not a one-shot, so hopefully I can remember to update...well...lets just remain optimistic for now XD_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._

_Enjoy~_

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_Spain grinned, and the sun catching his hair made seemed to make it turn golden._

"_Just the two of us against the world!" He laughed and swung his legs like a child. We were sitting on a fence, overlooking a tomato field. The sun was setting and well. You had to admit the scene did sort of…look romantic. Yeugh. He was still smiling when he looked at me, eyes seeming to overflow with happiness. Seriously, around this guy you practically could never feel sad; he was the literal epitome of happiness._

"_Lovi?" He asked, nervous tension creeping into his voice._

"_Yeah?" I replied, turning around to look at him, but there was only empty air. "Spain?" I asked looking around wildly, no one was there. I got off the fence and walked around, but the entire placec was empty. Even the workers had gone._

_Where the hell did that bastard go? _

"_SPAIN!" I was glaring now, but yet he didn't come out. Approximately five minutes later, however, something rustled in the leaves behind me._

_"Spain?" I asked, turning around, but instead, something hard hit me in the side of the head._

I awoke with a start-something hard had hit my head- and found out with the utmost horror where I was. In bed—now don't get me wrong, this was all fine and dandy, until I looked to the left.

Spain was in MY BED, hugging MY PILLOW (which explained why my head hurt, dammit) and his legs were curled around mine…it had been his elbow that had hit my head. Yelping, I darted away from him (what the hell was he doing in my bed?!) and then unwittingly pulled him off the bed and on top of me.

"Wha-what?" Spain groaned. "My head hurts!" Then, the blur Spaniard realized where he was and gave a startled squeal (which was so unmanly of him) and tried to get away—he only succeeded in pulling me after him.

"What the hell!" I yelled, and jerked my right arm away from him, but all I did was pull his left arm towards me. And that's when I noticed it. The glittering silver band of doom. We were connected by HANDCUFFS.

Immediately I panicked. Spain had been out drinking yesterday (why does he do that-his alcohol tolerance was even lower than mine) with the frogface and the albino potato. I had stayed at home (his friends are so uncool). Who knows, something- absolutely fucking stupid might have happened, resulting in this. Locked up, to the Spanish bastard.

"We-I mean, we didn't do-" I started, blushing furiously. Thankfully, the normally dense Spain realized what the actual fuck was going on and hurriedly shook his head, blushing too.

"Then why the HELL are you in my bed?! Are those my clothes?!" I screamed, desperately looking for a keyhole that maybe I could oh I don't know, pick?

"Well, I was upstairs and I thought, hey this bed is pretty lonely, I'm going to join Lovi downstairs! It was a brilliant idea; I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before! But when I came down I realized I wasn't wearing any clothes, so I put these on." He gestured to tank top and cotton shorts he was wearing. "I didn't know tank tops could be so comfortable!" He grinned stupidly. "I think I'm going to wear them more often."

I glanced up from my arduous task of finding the stupid keyhole, and glanced at him up and down. The first thing I notice however was how his muscles stood out in that tank top, and then immediately looked back down.

Do not even go there.

What seemed like 5 years later, Spain was still yakking about his drunken adventures, I had finally determined something completely confusing. There was no lock. There was no goddamn lock to fucking unlock this. Who would make handcuffs and not put a lock?! It doesn't make sense!

"And then we met England, who was all fairy-like and waving his wand, so we teased him about looking like a girl. It was a lot of fun!" He grinned like he had been electrocuted, but I was no longer listening to what he was saying. I was more concentrating on the words:

England

Fairy

Wand

Teased

They had taken the mickey out of a fairy-like England.

FAIRY. LIKE. ENGLAND.

I growled something entirely not nice in Italian (trust me-you do not want to know) and then proceeded to whack Spain around the head with my left hand.

"Ow! Lovi!" He glared at me reproachfully.

"YOU UTTER SPANISH COCK!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "DID YOU EVEN HEAR WHAT YOU SAID?"

He blinked at me, looking like a mystified baby seal with those stupid innocent green eyes. "What did I say, Lovi?"

"We met England, who was all fairy-like and waving his wand, so we teased him about looking like a girl." I repeated. "You made a fairy-like England angry." I smacked my face with my free hand. "Why do I even let you drink?" I groaned.

"Yeah! We found England! He had a magic wand!" He said, and then his voice trailed off when the impact of what he had said finally sunk into that thick head. "Oh."

"Oh indeed! That's why this stupid pair of handcuffs do not even have a keyhole on them you utter fucking assbutt." I swear, if I didn't love this idiotic man so much I would've killed him a long time ago.

"I uh…"

"Now we need to go find England. How are we even going to fit through the door with this?" I raised the jangling cuffs to prove a point. "No wait first things first. HOW ARE WE GOING TO CHANGE?!"

Spain stared at me, and something seemed to shift in his eyes. I was wearing only boxer shorts and the loosest shirt I owned, (thank god for not going commando tonight bless you cold autumn nights) so I don't really want to go out just like that. Imagine what it would do to my reputation!

"You could just go out like that..." Spain mumbled.

"What?" I turned around and yanked Spain in a full circle. "I guess I could just put on a pair of jeans and call it pyjama day..." I tried to shrug, but Spain was still attached me. Deciding to go with my fabulous, most brilliant plan ever, I searched for the jeans. After I found it, there was a lot of struggle just to put on the goddamn pants because I couldn't move my right hand without pulling Spain after me.

"Do I need to change?" Spain asked, staring down at his clothes.

I turned (with much difficulty) and have him the once over again. My gaze kept returning to his arms and I felt my face heating up.

"N-no. You're fine." I managed to choke out before turning to survey the door. It wouldn't fit two people at once, that meant someone would have to walk backwards and the other forwards.

It took ages and ages of explaining before Spain got the idea. Even then, when we tried it the first time, he went too fast forward and nearly bowled me over like a bowling pin. So, we agreed that I would go forwards and him backwards. It started out fine, until he moved too fast backwards and I walked too slow forwards and got jerked unceremoniously towards him, tripping over empty air before landing with a whooomph-straight into his arms. My head was trapped between his neck and his shoulder.

As though by instinct, Spain immediately put his arms around me so that he didn't fall over backwards. Now while this was alright for him, it most certainly was not for me. I was trapped in the embrace of someone who didn't know how much I fucking loved him (no really, dammit) and I couldn't move. Plus my arm was in an awkward position because Spain had dragged it backwards.

He let go of me, eventually, freeing me from the embrace. I was relieved, but at the same time, some stupid part of me didn't want him to let go. _Ever_. I would've been perfectly fine staying there, but my arm had really been starting to hurt.

"I uh…" I stammered, "We should go. "

Spain nodded, looking down at his feet. Was it just me or did I see a blush on his face? Nah, it probably was just me.

"So. To the front door we go?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice straight, instead of going all high-pitched and significantly _uncool_. (It happens when I'm fucking nervous okay! It doesn't happen all the time!)

"Si."

Now that's odd, Spain only relied on Spanish when he didn't know what else to say. (He still thinks I can't understand Spanish…poor misinformed bastard)

Spain turned and lead the way, pausing only to make sure I didn't get jerked down the stairs or vice versa, but the whole time I was still wondering

_He had stabilised his balance within a few seconds, so why did he keep holding on to me?_

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_Welp, there we go XD The first chapter. Hope ya liked it :D_

_~Stormfirej_


	2. Chapter 2

Hellooo! I am back ~

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I decided to put that thought out of my mind for now. Honestly, it wouldn't do me any good dwelling on it, so I figured I should spend more time focusing on how to get this silver band of complete imprisonment off my wrist. Although, I have to admit, I still am not quite sure how the hell we are supposed to find England, what with the entire of Barcelona to look through. What the fuck was he doing in Spain anyway?! Damn sneaky ass eyebrow shit, he probably was stalking frog face or something. He can be _so _possessive.

I was so lost in my swirl of deductions (the only redeeming quality England has are his TV shows) that I failed to notice Spain had come to a complete stop, so I walked straight into his back (His back hurts) and probably _deformed _my nose or something.

"What is it?" I asked, annoyed. Spain was just staring at the front door. At least, I think it is the front door, you can get lost in this place—all the doors look exactly the same.

"There's someone outside." Spain informed me.

"How is there someone outside?! How did you even see him through the door?" I asked, completely puzzled. Was this some magical sixth sense granted because of these stupid ass magical handcuffs?

"I can see him through the window." He gestured to the outline of someone through the curtains. Right. I totally knew that. (_So _anticlimactic)

I was just about to ask if I should open the door when it swung open of its own accord. Well then. I most certainly was not expecting that. What I really didn't expect however, was who was standing there, in the shadow of the doorway.

The bloody Brit…England. He was dressed normally, wearing his typical suit and tie. He didn't look at all like a fairy, and most certainly he was not holding a fairy wand that sparkled with all the colours of the wind.

…

What?  
Anyway, England looked up at us, noticed the handcuffs and gave this highly annoying smirk.  
"Did I do that?" He asked, that smirk still on his face.

"Yeah, you complete fucking moron, you did!" I yelled, glaring at him. At least his appearance prevented us from going on a highly complicated adventure that could probably kill me just to find a stupid Brit in the city of Barcelona. I looked to Spain for help, but he was just staring openmouthed at the sudden appearance of England.

"Now now, don't diss the only person who can get rid of that," England smirked again and pointed towards the cuffs.

"I swear, I am going to kill you and feed your entrails to the pigeons!" I snarled.

What?

Pigeons are deadly. Have you ever been attacked by pigeons? No. Thought so.

England grew a comical look on his face. "I am so scared."

He walked over and fingered the handcuffs, then stepped back and gave another one of his fucking smirks (I swear I am going to _KILL _him) and said, clear as day, "I can't get rid of it."

"YOU WHAT?!" I shrieked. "Why the fuck not?! Listen if you are lying to me I will set the mafia against you and then may god be on your side!"

I darted forward-I was so going to punch him-but the damn handcuffs held me back.

"I set this last night, yeah? There's a spell on it so I can't take it off till the requirement is fulfilled. That is, you need to uh well, I can't exactly remember, but it's got something to do with a bond." England shrugged. "Why? Does it bother you?" He grinned.

I was seething, first he sets some stupid thing on me and Spain, and then he can't remember what the actual fuck to do to take it off. And, he is still wearing that damn smirk on his face.

"I swear, as soon as we get this damn thing off I am going to find you and I am going to kill you. I know where you live." I hissed, staring completely pissed at him. I turned to Spain, to ask him what he was going to do to England when we finally got the damn handcuffs off, but I found him staring at the cuffs instead.

"Spain? Staring at them won't get rid of them faster, you know."

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking." He mumbled, before looking up.

I returned to look at England, who had crossed his arms and was leaning against the door.

"What now?" I asked, voice completely coated with anger.

"Up to you." He grinned, and turned, walking off, hands in pockets. (hello, I am England and I am such a _cool_ dude I mean look at my hands in my pockets)

I ran after him, dragging Spain along in the dust. I had just reached the back of his head (I was so going to hit him into next summer) but Spain had regained his footing and held me back.

"Dammit Spain, let go! He needs to be at least smashed on the head with a chair. Please? Just once. Maybe twice."

Spain merely shook his head and kept a tight hold on me, allowing England to saunter off, unscathed. England should be glad Spain was here or he would be saying hello to the back of a chair. Or a shovel. Probably both.

When he was out of sight, I turned my head to face Spain (turning my body is such hard work now, dammit).

"What did you do that for? I asked, annoyed.

"If you had hit him, he probably would have made it even harder to take off, Lovi." He replied, staring back at the handcuffs. "We could try using Maria to break it." He shrugged.

Hold on. Did Spain just have a brilliant idea to remove these manacles? Now _that's_ something you don't see happening very often.

"Use Maria?" I repeated, unsure if I had actually heard him say that or if it was just my brain panicking.

The innocent look returned to his face. "Yeah, why not?"

You had to admit, that was a brilliant idea. Spain turned (dragging me in a circle once more _thanks_) and headed back towards the house. I had no choice but to follow-for better or for worse, I was still attached to Spain.

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Haha~ Hope you liked it :D

~Stormfirej


	3. Chapter 3

_Ello~ I am baack huehuehue! (Finally) _

_Angel: Thanks so much for your review~ Course I will keep writing! :D:D:D I am not ready to give up on this story yet XD_

_Mattaya Anne: Thanks XD I try to make it cute (this story is based on fluff) _

_Kyouno-aru: Ahhaaha, grazie XD I am trying not to make this too depressing (wellll, not just yet) _

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I was dragged back to the house unwillingly, (I mean-come on Spain, just one hit with the shovel!), feet tripping over each other as Spain set off a fast pace towards the house.

"Spain-goddammit, stop for a moment will you! I'm getting dragged around!" I yelped as I nearly fell face front onto the floor (the DIRT floor).

However, Spain shook his head and kept walking, feet hitting the ground as he began flat-out running. _Running. _

"Fuck Spain, slow down! I can't run as fast as you, idiotttttttttttttttttttt!" I was screaming now, attracting weird looks from his neighbors.

Well-it's not every day you see an Italian stumbling after a running Spaniard., connected by handcuffs. Maybe they think we are escaped prisoners or something. I half expected people to start murmuring "Prisoner zero has escaped!" (Also, considering the fact that I had just chased after a british man while holding a shovel, it was highly likely I would get some odd looks)

"¿Está todo bien?" ((Is everything alright?)) A Spanish man asked as I was whizzed past him.

"Sí, todo está bien!" ((Yes, everything is fine!)) I managed to yell before we rounded the corner, onto the street where Spain lived.

Jesus, what was with this rapid pace?! It's not like we had England coming after us or anything, why the fuck was Spain still running?! Finally, after being dragged around two street corners, Spain finally slowed down as he neared his house.

"Thank-huff-you-huff-for that." I panted, collapsing onto the front porch.

Spain shrugged as he walked to his shed where he kept his arsenal of dangerous equipment (I wonder why the authorities haven't killed him for it), resulting in me getting yanked off my butt, down a flight of stairs and then sent sprawling into the grass.

"Spainnn!" I whined, staring down at my now grass stained shirt. Fuck, and I can't even change out of this one! Spain turned around (I was dragged in another circle) and smiled.

"Lo siento, (I'm sorry) Lovi. I just wanted to get as far away from England as possible." His words were dangerous and scary, and I didn't like it one bit.

"Uh…" I managed to stammer out. That didn't sound like Spain. "Great?"

He held up his hand for me to get up, and, after a moment's internal war (_Take his hand! But…it is HIS hand! Take it dammit! NO. Yes! What are you, a coward?_), I took his hand and got up, brushing off my greenish shirt and desperately trying to hide the blush I was sure I had on my face. By the time I judged it safe to look up, Spain had already disappeared. Now that was odd, we were connected by…I looked down at my left, the handcuffs were still there, but the chain had extended by a few metres and was glowing a soft yellow. I freaked out. I seriously, completely freaked out. I lost my cool right there in the garden with a weirdly angry Spain and a bunch of Spanish people still whispering about mad and crazy people.

"WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. SHIT." I yelped and tugged at the chains. I

was full out yelling and screaming profanities at this chain, and England. It only extended a little. "SPAIN!"

"Yes Roma?" Roma? That's new. That's extremely new. That's not even Spain anymore right there. However. I was too busy freaking out over the somewhat extended chain.

"Do you notice anything different?" I asked, voice trembling slightly, staring at the chain. Spain followed my gaze to the chain, and realization soon dawned. Even angry, Spain still seemed slightly dimwitted.

"¡Dios mío!"(oh my god) He whispered, jangling the chain.

Again with the Spanish. Seriously, he's supposed to think I can't understand Spanish! In fact, he hardly ever speaks Spanish in front of me except for his bosses. I did quite like him speaking Spanish. It sounded intriguing and well, vaguely cool. (Don't you dare tell him I said that). But I digress.

"How is it doing that?" Spain asked, snapping me out of my daydream. "

I have no clue." I declared. "I don't know, and I really don't like not knowing."

Spain considered the extended chain, before walking towards the house (a mere one metre away). The chain followed his movements and lengthened accordingly.

"That is so cool." Amazed, I stared at the chain and attempted to walk backwards. However, the chain refused to move with me (thanks so much for that). "Wha-oi! Gosh dangit, extend you stupid chain!" I snarled and jerked my hand backwards, but the didn't chain didn't budge a fucking inch. And now my wrist hurts. Wow.

Spain stared at me thoughtfully, before taking a step backwards. The chain extended as per how far he stepped. (I swear that chain is now freaking bias.) I stared at the glowing chain with the utmost loathing. In fact, I was still staring at it while Spain went to go grab Maria. I didn't even notice when he approached with the bigass glinting axe (he's got a flipping routine to clean that thing-it's a wonder he hasn't chopped off his arm yet or something.)

"Are you ready Roma?" He asked, raising the axe above his head. Gulping, I nodded quickly before bracing myself for the wonderful musical shattering of the chain. I was so ready to get these things off, you wouldn't even believe it. CLAANK Sparks flew (not the sappy romantic thing damnit I mean literal sparks the burning hot yellow thingies that hurt) everywhere, but the chain was completely unblemished. Not even a scratch. Spain stared at the chain, before striking it once more with his axe. It didn't work AGAIN. You would think that after a few hours we would have some sort of breakthrough, but noo we're still fucking stuck with an angry Spain and stupid handcuffs the idiot England refused to fucking remove.

Isn't this day just dandy. Spain was back to staring at the chain, conflicting emotions spreading across his face. Mainly, it was anger. It's been ages since I have seen an angry Spain. H

ave you seen an angry Spain?

No? Good.

You don't want to. It's scary as fuck. He gets all mad (well no _shit_, Sherlock) and his eyes go really dark. And that's coming from someone who gets uh, well, mingles with the mafia on a weekly basis. Or monthly. I try to avoid them, see. I'm not sure they take kindly to homosexual Italians. Anyway, back to Spain. Right. He chucked the axe to one side and tugged on the chain.

But. Then. Something inexplicable happened and the chain have a low groaning sound before retracting like some goddamn high speed train and literally me and Spain flew towards each other (the chain had extended by around 5 metres, so me and Spain practically flew 2.5 metres each. See? I can do math. I totally didn't fail.) Spain and I both gasped simultaneously as we landed in a heap, Spain ontop of me. The position we were in was extremely...uhm...cough...intimate-we were really really close.

Yeah. I immediately felt a blush coming on-those full scale ones where it's practically impossible to hide and you're just like ffff shit now he's staring at my face and really what the fuck can you do so you're stuck there while the other just smirks at your utter discomfort. Well, that is exactly what happened. Spain didn't even bother to get up from his extremely awkward position on top of my waist (closer to hip), (YEAH-I KNOW.) he just smirked (bit like England if you ask me-the fuck is going onnn) and sat there.

"Spain...do you think that you could...maybe...you know...GET THE FUCK OFF ME!" I yelped, face burning in embarrassment. "Nope." He answered, staring straight at me. "

And why the fuck not?" I replied, seething, completely pinned to the floor.

"Reasons." He laughed, (finally acting like the Spain I knew) and grinned. "You look like a tomato, Lovi!"

"Shut upppp!" I groaned, attempting to raise my arms but finding them to be held down as well. Spain grinned again before standing up, pulling me up as well, (for some reason the chain refused to lengthen again) before randomly attacking me in a hug.

"Sorry about earlier, Lovi. I wasn't feeling like myself…" he muttered into my neck, while I tried not to freak out. "

Uh…" I stammered, but by then he had let me go, and had begun to pull me towards the house. "

Let's ask Francis and Gilbert if anything happened to them~"Spain grinned cheerily. Riiight, those two. Those two better be suffering now or god help them I will MAKE them suffer.

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_And there's that! Chapter Three~ Hope you enjoyed it :D _

_~Stormfirej_


	4. Chapter 4

_Helloooo~ I am finally back! Exams are just eleven days away, so I may not update as often as I would like. Plus-I had massive case of writer's block. Sorry!_

_Mattaya Anne: Aww, thank you so much :DD_

_Sabilandako: Grazie for your cute review :D ~ I'll try to update frequently okay?_

_Meantime...enjoy! :)_

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As soon as we got into the house, Spain picked up the phone and dialled for France. Honestly, I was hoping that something worse had happened to him than us. (_he _started this whole thing, not me! I am just the victim here!) France soon picked up, and Spain being a genius (where _is_ he getting these brains from?), put it on speakerphone. The conversation basically went like so:

**France: Bonjour, mon ami!**_** (Hello, my friend!)**_

Spain: Hola, Francis~ Listen, has anything…magical…happened to you lately?

**France: Magical? Ah, oui! (**_**Ah, yes!) **_

_Me: Really? What happened, tell me!_  
**France: Oh, bonjour Romano! You're here too?**

Spain: We're kinda…handcuffed together.

**France: Oh-oh my, Antoine, Romano, what HAVE you been doing at night?**

I swear, the next time I see France; I am going to smack the shizzle out of him. With a shovel too.

_Me: NOTHING, OH MY CHICKEN NUGGETS, ITS ALL THAT BASTARD ENGLAND'S FAULT!_

Spain: Now, now, Roma, don't get mad, he doesn't know yet.

**France: Angleterre did something to me too! I have to teach the poor fool how to cook, n'est-ce pas triste? This is going to take ages! **_**(England did something to me too! I have to teach the poor fool how to cook, isn't that sad?)**_

_Me: Hahahahhaaha England needs to use magic to teach someone to cook ahahahahahhahah_

_*Distant shout from background* _

_SHUT UP, OR I'LL MAKE THAT CHAIN IRREVESIBLE, YOU GIT!_

I shut up, alright, and let Spain carry the rest of the conversation, which ranged from burnt cookies (I can't even get the smell out of my _beautiful_ glossy locks!), spilt soup (This place is going to _stink_ of mushroom soup for AGES dieu, pourquoi _(God, why)_) and then turned to an anecdote of our daily troubles, which had England guffawing at our stupidity. I am going to hit him so hard, I promise you.

Spain didn't seem to mind England laughing at our hopelessness, and laughed along with him. Which begs the question, what happened earlier that turned him all wonky and scary? I stared at him pretty hard, trying not to get distracted (did you know that the light made his eyes sparkle?) as I tried to be Sherlock Holmes and figure out what the fuck had happened. Nothing came to me, so I gave up that profession and tried to be Detective Inspector Lestrade and figure out what had happened to the chain, and stepped backwards.

Finally, fina-fucking-ly, the chain extended with me, and grew to a glowing long chain. The maximum it went was again, approximately five metres. I grinned stupidly and danced around, enjoying the temporary freedom that it gave me. The golden light seemed to show my happiness that the chain was finally listening to me. I mean, this was only a hundred years late!

"Hey, England?" I interrupted him, (he was STILL laughing at us, that poor dude must be absolutely starved of humour at home)  
"What?"  
"Is the chain supposed to extend to five metres?"

"WHAT?" He spat something out, and I distinctly heard France going "I am not cleaning that up, Angleterre!"

I explained to him the glowing thing, and the thought seemed to unnerve him slightly, he began muttering under his breath.  
"The chain symbolizes something." He informed us after a while. No, _shit_, Sherlock.

"You said the same thing just now, before you somehow ended up in France…" I replied.

"I teleported here, if you must know. Did I mention what the chain meant?"

"Uh…" I turned to look at Spain from my position five metres away, for confirmation. "No, you didn't."

"What does it mean, what does it mean, what does it mean? It's something important, something I need to tell you." England muttered, and hung up.

Well…then…oookay. That's normal. Spain stared at me, and I back at him, before I heard that noise, that weird groaning noise, and I shot towards Spain again, but HAH, this time I was prepared and I managed to stop before the chain clicked together. Now, this, this is ninja. I am so fantastic. On the downside, my abrupt stop caused me to dig holes in the carpet, but that was solvable. I grinned as I looked to Spain, relieved that I had managed to save myself from another ridiculously embarrassing experience, but Spain had that dead look in his eyes again. Not again, gosh dangit.

"Roma, do you want to go eat lunch?" He asked, and that's when the chain did the thing. A different thing, but a thing nonetheless.

It made a clicking noise, and then abruptly stopped glowing. The chain had stuck, around a metre long, and didn't budge an inch.

"What the shit?" I asked, poking the chain hesitantly. Spain noticed the thing, but did nothing but smile.

"At least we won't keep hitting each other when we cook." He smiled as he began to walk to the kitchen.

"Hold on. The kitchen? We are going to cook?" I asked, astonished. I didn't think anyone would want to cook when someone is technically handcuffed to each other. "Why don't we just order in mushu pork from that Chinese takeout?"

"No! There's no fun in that!" Spain turned on me fiercely. "Let's make pasta!"

"Pasta?"  
I couldn't remember the last time Spain had offered to cook with me. Normally, it would just be one person in the kitchen cooking alone. But I guess that would be redundant in this point as we ARE connected by inseparable bonds that will take a long time to break. Actually, the cooking with Spain part was more because I kept rejecting his offers. Its totally nothing…just…he looks…really…uhm..hot when he cooks so I tend to give the kitchen a wide berth when he begins cooking, though I suppose now there is no way out.

"Yeah, pasta." Spain smiled, as he pulled out the different ingredients from the various shelves. One good thing about Spain's kitchen was that it was HUGE. Then again, everything in Spain's house was big, but this one took the cake. You could have ten people (I think-did I mention I failed maths?) in here, and each one could be cooking comfortably

"Let's begin!" He grinned, and turned on the stove.

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_Thank you so much for reading~_

_~Stormfirej_

_I do not own Sherlock, all credits to BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle_


	5. Chapter 5

_Sabilandako: Ahaha, thank you~ I did alright for my exams, I suppose. France is forced to teach England a dish that he can make without burning, and France cannot be set free until England manages to cook that one dish. Just one. XD_

_ kyouno-aru : Yeah…yeah, Spain's hot. XD (never going to live this down am I?)_

_Enjoy the story and I am so so so so so sorry for being so incredibly late!_

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Now, let me ask you a question. From the word, "cooking", what do you think of? Nice smells, long tiring hours in the kitchen, (depending if you're England or not...) a good dish being served? Yeah? That's what you think? Well. Guess what. Try doing that-while handcuffed to someone. To spare you from the trouble (don't go calling it science, oh and don't put bananas in the microwave cause I did that once, but bananas turn out to be flammable.) (What? It was science!) , I'll just inform you of the results. DISASTER. Complete, and utter disaster. I could list the things that went right, but that would take one second.

Things that went right:

1. We got into the kitchen. (Brilliant, weren't we? We got through the door on our first try!)

Things that didn't go so right:

(meaning: Armageddon)

1. Everything that came afterwards. (Seriously, I'm not exaggerating anything here)

For the sake of you people, which is the whole reason why I'm telling you this, I shall take the time to describe to you our epic fail. Enjoy laughing at our expense.

For the first thing, have you ever tried to take out ingredients from a fridge, at the same time? Well, I have! It's a horrifying experience. See, we were going to get the tomato paste, meat, and tomatoes out from the fridge. Now, some divine force seems bent on making me have THE worst day ever, so we both reached for the same thing. The tomato paste. Which was coincidentally behind the milk. (On a completely unrelated note-we need a new bottle of milk) So, me, being me, when I saw Spain reaching for the same jar that I was, I got competitive. I was going to get that jar first, bloody hell. To cut a long story short, I knocked over the milk, Spain knocked over the chocolate sauce (what? I like chocolate sauce, thank you) and we made a huge mess in the fridge.

After suffering from two large-scale panic attacks, we decided to leave the fridge till later, and moved onto the pantry to retrieve the tomatoes, which we got out without much difficulty. (Hooray! Bless the pantry!)

We then went around to the freezer to retrieve the meat. Let me just earn you, frozen meat is extremely hard and heavy, so don't like, accidentally DROP IT ON YOUR FOOT. It hurt, a lot, and then I made the mistake of kicking the bag away. I nearly broke my toe. And Spain refused to help me, because he was too busy laughing at my failures. And he was supposed to be nice!

After we got over the fiasco with the fridge, there was another terrifying (completely terrifying, holy flying potatoes) incident with the handcuffs and the frying pan. See, we were too busy laughing at each other to notice the chain getting shorter, until we grabbed at the frying pan and nearly flew into the stove (needless to say, don't try this at home) which was already heating up for the pan (which was probably out to kill us, or something, that stupid demonic pan.)

Unfortunately, with the chain now terribly short, we could only bicker about who was to do what, and upon attempting to lift the pan single handedly (and nearly having it crash on our feet) and failing, we decided to retire to the living room and order mushu pork from the Chinese takeout and watch movies. Like Star Wars. Which is what I wanted all along, so I can't really argue with that.

"Spain?" I asked, after a particularly awesome fight scene between the Emperor and Yoda.

"Hmm?" He replied, not really paying attention, already half asleep.

"Would it be more awesome if we could use the Force? Then you could lift the pan with no problem!" I grinned and attempted the use of jazz hands, which made me look like a penguin instead because the chain was still extremely short and Spain was lying on his side. Lying on his side didn't put me in the most perfect of positions, I was way too close to him for comfort, (ok, it was very comfortable, and Spain smelt nice, but that doesn't change anything, _**alright**_! Chigi.)

I mean, we were practically cuddling on the couch! Cuddling! _Me_! I was about to get up and change my position because I could feel my face heating up, and _oh god, _this was so embarrassing because I was actually enjoying this And then Spain decided to be the most perfect angel and fall asleep on the cough. His free hand was flung over me, effectively trapping me in his…embrace. Oh, my god. What did I ever do to deserve this? I groaned, hopefully loud enough to wake him, and when it didn't, I wiggled my hand to grab the remote and raised the volume.

"INTO EXILE I MUST GO. FAILED, I HAVE." Yoda's voice blasted around the room, and even though I cringed, Spain didn't react, even giving this little snore.

I nearly hit my head on the remote, resigning myself to an afternoon trapped in his arms (which totally didn't feel nice or anything, _okay?_ You're getting it wrong.) I looked around for something to do as I lowered the volume again, for god's sake, it was so fucking loud, how the fuck can Spain sleep through that? Next time there's a hurricane I'm leaving him behind.

After a while (2 minutes), I decided that however nice Spain's arms felt, (which it _didn't_), I had to get out of here. What can I say? Nature was calling.

"Spain, wake the fuck up, I need to go to the bathroom!" I yelled into his ear, but if he woke he gave no sign of reaction.

"Spain, gosh dangit chicken nuggets, get up!" And because the diplomatic approach wasn't working, I used something that Spain had taught me when I was little, and kicked him in the shins.

He didn't even so much as stir. Just as I was about to give up and piss on Spain just for the heck of it, cause it's all _his _fault, dammit, he began to speak in Spanish. In his sleep. I could barely make it out, but he was muttering something about tomatoes, handcuffs, tomatoes, Romano, handcuffs, damn fairy England, handcuffs, tomatoes.

Don't look at me like that; do I pretend to understand whatever is in his head?

"Spain, WAKE THE FUCK UP OR GOD HELP YOU I WILL PISS ON YOU!"

He merely answered in Spanish, going on about tomatoes and how he was tired. At least, that's what I think he said, I'm not very fluent in Spanish…yet .

I stared at him in disbelief, watched as he mouth curled into this little smile but all I really wanted to do was hit him, but that seemed to be out of the question because of the damn handcuffs. I took a risk and let loose a string of Spanish words that I hoped said wake the fuck up you asshat or I will hit you so hard you will fly into America and get whacked by a hurricane.

"Not cute, Lovi." He replied, opening his eyes.

"I-I-what the fuck."

"You can speak Spanish? That's so adorableeeeee~" He made this little squee-ing noise and crushed me in a hug. "You could have told me earlier, you know." He didn't physically pout, but it was so there in his voice.

"You-but-asleep!"

"You woke me up when you kicked me. That hurt, Lovi."

"Well you fucking deserve it you, you, you bitchsquealer!" I yelped and attempted to roll out of his arms, though he still didn't let go. "Let me go! I need to go to the bathroom, fucker!"

"Fine! But I need to come with you…" He cocked his head, and had the decency to blush.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

_**FUCK.**_

**HOW **will this work? The chain is nowhere near long enough to stretch through the toilet door, and there is _no _way I am getting into a bathroom with Spain.

Spain got up from the couch, and yanked me brutally to my feet. He started to make his way down the hall to some bathroom somewhere (I can _never _find anything in this house) and grinned at me.

"We'll figure something out." He said, still smiling, all happy go lucky.

Clearly, for me, I am not a very happy person, nor a lucky one, so this plan of his didn't really help the situation. But, because of these clearly-from-the-depths-of-satan-handcuffs, I had no choice but to follow.

* * *

_Haha, thank you so much for reading~_

_~Stormfirej_


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